The New Beginning
by AzaleaBlue
Summary: Ron and Hermione fought all the odds and not just survived but grew up to be stronger individuals. Now the war is over, and they are desperate to live a normal life. But once again, her past threatens to rip apart what she has built. Sequel to IN SEARCH OF HERMIONE. Please read that first.
1. The Lingering Nightmares

**A/N:** Thanks to all my readers who stuck with me through the mammoth project that was 'In Search of Hermione' and gave that story so much love. As promised, I bring you the sequel to it where Ron and Hermione finally begin their new journey. This story is marked as Angst only because there will be mentions of the post-War wizarding society. This story will neither be as lengthy nor as angsty as its predecessor. It's more of a Romance with lemons.

A special shoutout to **jenn582** for reading the first draft and giving me the necessary morale boost I needed when I was conflicted about this fic.

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 **Chapter 1: Lingering Nightmares**

 _It began with a twitch like always- a shiver at the tip of her fingers which spread to her arms and then to the rest of her body._

 _She tried shaking off the dread but it was slowly creeping its way into her heart. There was a faint whisper at the back of her mind- something familiar, hopeful in fact, but it was way too far off to be heard clearly. Her legs carried her over the gravelled pathway, and she walked almost in a haze till the nauseatingly familiar, large building materialised in front of her eyes. And then someone screamed- a loud blood-curdling sound that broke out through the walls of Malfoy Manor and percolated through her skin. She couldn't hear herself cry although she was pretty sure she tried, or perhaps it blended with Ron's screams? Hermione didn't know for sure but she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She faintly registered rushing past the fountain on the left and towards the large main door, all the while yelling for him._

 _She had barely reached the steps when suddenly, everything fell silent - Ron's voice was cut off mid-scream, and this time, Hermione heard her own heart-wrenching cry. It drowned the voice at the back of her head which was still desperately calling out to her._

...

"HERMIONE? HERMIONE! WAKE UP!" he cried, patting her cheeks with his free hand while the other pulled her quivering body to his chest. He was just about to cast the Rennervating spell when there was furious banging on the wood followed by loud swearing. Harry's spell caused the old door to jerk open and collide loudly against the wall.

"Fuck!" swore his best mate noticing the scene on the bed, and Ron ignored him to cast the spell on Hermione instead. Her body stilled instantly, and for a minute, he could hardly breathe as her limp body collapsed in his arms. Then after what felt like a lifetime of agonising minutes, she finally opened her eyes.

He swore loudly and gulped in two mouthfuls of air before dropping his wand next to him and wrapping her more firmly in his embrace, kissing her frantically on the face and neck.

"Stop scaring us like this, Hermione," quaked Harry, and Ron lifted his head to notice his mate collapse down on the ground, draw in his knees and drop his head between them.

"Not that she can help it, mate," he snapped while rubbing her back with his palm.

"I know," Harry sighed. "I'm sorry."

"No, Harry, I am sorry," Hermione whispered as she shifted a little in Ron's arms, but only to allow herself to face Harry when she spoke to him.

"Did you take the potion?" inquired Ron as he tucked her curls away from her face, wiping the beads of sweat that covered her forehead with his palm. She looked away guiltily with a small shake of her head.

"I've been taking it for three months now, Ron. Since... since our escape from the Manor... Continuous usage can lead to other side effects... like hallucinations and insanity," she finished in a small voice. Ron could hear Harry fidget in the background but chose to ignore him and took her hand in his larger one.

"When did you take it the last time?" he asked instead.

"Two days ago,"

"And?"

"And- I think..." she licked her lips and eyed Harry who scrambled to his feet ungracefully.

"Erm... I guess I'll leave. Call if you guys need anything." he muttered, and with a small nod at Ron's direction, walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Ron glanced once at the couple of candles that shone from the bracket; their flames flickered as the door shut but the Charm in them kept them burning.

He placed his hand gently to her chin and tilted her face towards him.

"What?" he asked softly while looking at those brown pools. He hated that she was still hurting so much, hated that Magical healing had so little to ease a psychological distress as severe as hers. But most of all, he hated that he had no clue what more he could do to help.

"I wanted to try sleeping without them," she confessed, "and it worked for two days but-", she stopped and bit her lip in frustration like she was prone to doing when an answer evaded her.

"Somethin' happened today? Something that, Oh! Bloody– fuck." he pulled away his hand to run it through his hair. "It's 'bout my training, innit?" he exhaled.

This time Hermione pulled his hand in hers and snuggled closer to his chest, grabbing the thin cloth of his vest in between her fingers.

"I know I'm making it hard for you, Ron, but- " he felt her snuggling deeper and wrapped his arms more firmly around her waist, "-but I'm so scared!" she cried into his chest.

Ron pulled her completely onto his lap this time and let out a grunt as her legs wrapped around his waist. Placing his palm at the base of her neck he pulled away slightly to make her meet his eyes.

"It's gonna sound sappy as hell but, nothin's gonna keep me away from you, you know that, right?"

She chuckled slightly through her tears and shook her head before resting it on his shoulders.

"What do I do with my fears, Ron? The thought of not knowing where you are-" She shuddered and wrapped her arms more firmly around him. "I keep dreaming about the Manor. I..." she gulped and took a deep breath before continuing, "We don't even know how many Death Eaters escaped, Ron. You know they'll target you both first."

Ron rested his chin on top of her head before pressing a kiss on the mass of curls. The familiar fragrance of her hair sent a pleasant shiver down his spine but 'twas more than just that. He could feel her breathing ease and wondered if he'd be at peace not being with her when she needed him this way.

"Do you want me to drop out of the program?" he asked quietly and she met his eyes, searching and with such an insane amount of love that even the thought of giving up on his childhood dreams didn't seem half bad.

Hermione placed her palms on his cheeks and traced his jawline with her fingers, her eyes never leaving his. Ron reckoned he was holding his breath for her answer. But he also realised that he'd end up leaving the Auror program if Hermione needed him to. Her gaze fell away from his eyes to rest briefly on his lips before she met his eyes again. Ron inched closer on instinct. His nose brushed her smaller one before his lips found their true place- over hers, and a soft sigh escaped him. It was barely a touch before he pulled away and then wrapping one arm firmly around her waist and entangling the other in her mass of wild curls, he claimed her lips again.

Peace was what he found in her.

His lip captured her lower lip and sucked gently and she returned the blissful gesture in kind by pulling his upper lip in between hers; and just like that, everything else around them seemed to dissolve. All he felt was her body close to his, and that was all he needed anyway. Her taste flooded his senses, her fragrance wrapped around him bringing a kind of serenity that was still so elusive after the war. He could bear it no longer and deepened the kiss. His desperate tongue delved into her mouth and she moaned softly as it found hers. Her nails dug into his shoulders in a pleasant way while her breasts pressed onto his chest and he practically ached to remove the barriers of clothing and feel her skin against his. He craved to be pulled in by her, claimed by her. His hard member rubbed against her flimsy shorts, eager to be released from its confines and find itself wrapped in her warmth instead. He barely controlled the urge to thrust and pulled away, reluctant but while he still had the strength to do so.

"I'll leave it if it makes you feel any better." he confessed and she let out a tiny cry and wrapped her arms around his neck again.

"I can't let you do that, Ron. It's what you've always wanted."

He pressed a kiss on her nape and she shuddered a little. His member protested inside his pyjamas by pressing into her shorts-covered core. She moaned harder before biting down softly on his shoulder. They'd do better sleeping naked as he had suggested weeks ago. But this way, they were able to snatch a few more precious seconds before she Disapparated back to the Burrow and into his room. But he'd have liked to keep her with him, every second of his life, only if she wasn't so worried about offending his parents... The pull between them was intense. Ron had no clue how he had even managed to hold on for so long during his sixth and seventh year. No wonder he was always barking mad at her.

"Tell me what you want," he urged holding her firmly against him.

She pulled away to look into his eyes again. There was anguish in those brown orbs but this time it also held determination, as if she had finally found her answers. Her palm slid down to rest on his chest and she smiled a little before she spoke, a little sad but a proud one.

"It'll be very selfish of me to hold back this Gryffindor," she replied poking gently at his chest with her finger. "He needs to be out there fighting, doesn't he?" she asked looking into his eyes.

He smiled and nodded a little before pressing his forehead to hers. "But I'll stay back if you need me to. You know you matter more to me than everything else, including this Auror Program."

Hermione traced her finger gently over his lips and watched them curiously as she spoke. "I know. You've proved that many times over, Ron."

She exhaled and bit her lower lip before dropping her hand and fidgeted with a loose thread on his vest before speaking again. But this time, her voice didn't quiver. It had the strength of a girl who had come a long way from her privileged roots in these two of years; a girl who was scared, bruised and still hurting, but hardened by war nevertheless.

"Go, do what you Gryffindors do best, Ron. But bear in mind, you hurt yourself or worse, and you'll have to face the wrath of a nasty Slytherin when you get back."

He laughed aloud this time and claimed her lips again.

"Come on, I have my own personal Healer-in-making to patch me up!" he chuckled before biting her earlobe gently. "I love you. You know that, right?" he gruffed in a husky whisper at her nape and she squealed softly as his lips found a ticklish spot.

"And now, it's time to show you what other stuff we Gryffindors do best."

Her laughter turned into a shocked gasp and then a moan as he lowered her on the bed, pulled the shorts off her in haste and pushed two long fingers into the moist warmth of her folds even as his lips claimed hers once again.

...

The soft moan turned into loud swears on Ron's part and jumbled gibberish in her case. Hermione was a mass of nerves, each of which sparked and tingled as Ron thrust into her. She lay with her head resting on Ron's arm while his other hand had entwined around her waist and reached between her legs where their bodies coupled together. This was one of her favourite positions: encased within Ron as the smaller spoon, while his broad chest pressed against her back as he thrust inside her.

The old bed creaked and for a brief minute, she bit back a chuckle realising how much noise they were making. But every other thought faded as Ron pressed his lips to her shoulder and sucked. She managed to cut her loud moan but only by pressing her face onto his arm and biting down softly. She heard his grunt, knowing instinctively that he was getting close. Her right arm snaked its way between her legs and Ron, from days of practice, grabbed it in his, effectively wrapping a couple of her fingers around his slick shaft that was still busy plunging in and out of her. Her body shuddered violently and at the same time, his hand grasped her wrist as another shudder racked his body and his warm seed filled her up.

...

It was the soft buzzing of the wand on the bedside table that woke her. The candles had finally died down, as they were charmed to do with the first light of the morning.

Hermione knew she still had around half-an-hour before she needed to get back- _if she needed to get back at all._ She turned slightly to her right to watch him and just like every morning, felt a surge of gratitude to have this man in her life. Ron was sleeping, peacefully at the moment. His now shorter fringe covered his forehead, for once making him looking like the eighteen-year-old he was. She resisted the urge to run her fingers over his cheeks because all of them were horribly light sleepers now. Instead, she allowed herself to watch him. Ron muttered something incoherent in his sleep and the arm that was wrapped around her pulled her closer, his face pressing into her nape and she sighed blissfully.

 _How many times could she thank the dead headmaster for saving her by bringing him into her life? Apparently, not enough._

Sometimes she still wondered what might have prompted the wise old man to assign Ron as her guard; _did he know what he was doing?_ Harry said he did. In fact, Harry was sure Dumbledore was relying on Ron and Hermione to be together for the success of their mission. It seemed strange, impossible even. Anyone who knew them in their fifth year would agree. _But that was more like Dumbledore, wasn't it?_ He knew more than anyone else. She wished she had that kind of farsightedness, especially now.

She looked at his peaceful face again before snuggling deeper into his arms, if that was even possible. But the anxiety remained. Bill's words haunted her and she tried to push away the panic that began to rise again.

 _It had been far too many times already,_ she told herself. She wasn't ready to lose everything that was hers all over again. She could live without claiming that inheritance. What she had with Ron was worth so much more than all the gold in those three vaults.

Bill hadn't brought it up earlier, but she had always known he would.

" _So are you planning to claim your vaults at Gringotts?" he had asked her casually after dinner the previous night._

" _I don't know," she confessed truly. Ron's eldest brother nodded a little, and despite the scars that marked his face, Hermione noticed how similar his features were to Ron's. It didn't make matters easy._

" _What happens if I don't?" she asked after a pause. Harry and Ron were talking to Kingsley and the rest of the family was gathered around the table, Ginny was sitting next to George talking in soft tones._

" _Considering those vaults were locked and sealed after the deaths-" Bill paused for a minute, giving her an understanding look before continuing, "-you should expect a notice from the Ministry to present yourself to the Wizegamot before you can submit your claim. Our world's a mess, that's what's taking them so long. But they'll get to it. Yours is a rare case."_

" _Yes," she replied automatically._

" _It's lucky that the Gringotts' inherent magic takes over in these cases. The announcement had ensured that the vaults be sealed till a legal claimant appeared and proved his or her claim. It successfully saved your inheritance from being used by Voldemort to fund his games. He wasn't happy, I am told."_

 _She shuddered at the memory Bill's words evoked, but unaware as he was about her inner turmoil, he continued._

" _The Wizegamot and the Gringotts' Goblin Trust will need to review your claim as the true Hermione Granger. They'll need blood samples along with evidence and witnesses of your escape since you've been considered dead for almost two years since the Granger Mansions incident."_

" _But Dumbledore is dead," she said automatically and Bill nodded grimly. "But you were rescued by Snape, Remus and Kingsley. He can give his testimony," he indicated at the tall wizard who was currently their Minister of Magic._

 _Hermione glanced at the three men and her eyes automatically sought the tallest._

" _Ron will have to testify too, won't he?" she asked._

" _Yes," replied Bill. "In fact, as your assigned guard, his testimony matters the most, after Dumbledore."_

...

The wand buzzed again.

 _Fifteen minutes._

She pulled out her hand from under the cover and silently Accioed her clothes. The faded shorts and almost discoloured top zoomed into her hand.

The decision should have been easy.

For the past couple of years, she had been financially dependent on the Order. And now the funds were at all time low. The War had left even the well-off people penniless. For months, keeping alive had been the priority; jobs had taken a backseat. Even now, two months after the war, the Wizarding World was a shadow of what it once was. Too much had been destroyed, a lot needed to be rebuilt. Hungry, homeless witches and wizards still thronged the streets. Most people had been stripped of all that they owned. Everyone needed money, and no one seemed to have enough- apart from her.

She needed funds for her education. Hogwarts had too many orphans this year to fund. The thought was painful and brought back memories of all the funerals they had attended in the initial days and she took a deep breath, biting back the tears that threatened to escape. And the castle needed repairs and funds too. For once, she could use her father's wealth for something good, maybe that would wash off some of the sins they had accumulated by aiding the Dark Lord.

She glanced at Ron again, grabbing his arm instinctively.

Her wealth and name had been a barrier between them. The thought intensified her shame, and she turned to press herself into his sleeping form. She desperately hoped his closeness would save her from the guilt as it rescued her from her nightmares. And automatically, she remembered the words he had spoken months ago, back in her Chamber in the Gryffindor Tower, after he had found out about Ginny and Harry.

 _"Even if we all survive the catastrophe that lies in front of us, and they are still together, people will assume she is a fortune hunter, enticing the Chosen One for name and fame."_

 _"Why would you say that? They really like each other!" she had exclaimed, and he had laughed mirthlessly at her words. "You won't find a better guy for Ginny, Ron, and you know that. Harry really feels deeply for her."_

 _"No one really cares about feelings, Granger," he'd said as he tilted his head sideways very slightly to meet her eyes, for once, allowing his mask to slide down._

 _"People see what they want to see. For them, we, the penniless Weasleys, will be the fortune hunters who would have trapped the famous Harry Potter for his money and fame. I have heard that for years, I don't want Ginny to face it too."_

She wanted to believe he was wrong. But he wasn't.

She had heard whispers, feeble ones but they were there, pointing fingers at her, wondering loudly why the daughter of a Death Eater was with two War Heroes. They were invisible faces, muttering behind her, disappearing when she turned around. Once, Ron had overheard one of them in Diagon Alley. He had wrapped a possessive arm around her and glared at the man before looking at her with pride.

"Because she is a bloody War Hero herself." He had spat at the man.

She had grabbed onto his shirt tightly, smiling at him like she didn't care. But she knew she cared, and Ron knew it too.

She sighed a little; the breath came in gasps, struggling on its way through her constricting chest muscles.

 _What if her inheritance snatched away Ron from her life again? She trusted Ron. She just didn't trust her luck._

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 **A/n:** Thanks for reading and a review will be highly appreciated.


	2. Pick up the Pieces

**A/N: Yay, I f** **inally managed to update! I am having a hard time with this story, and am relieved that I could complete this chapter. It's much shorter than usual, but I guess something is better than nothing.**

 **Thank you all for all those reviews. I know you are eager to read this, but I am very invested in my other story 'Fly Away Home' for now. I just needed to write something more fun after all the angst of ISoH and ABCoA. So the updates to this might take a while. However, I won't abandon this story.**

 **Love you all and thank you for your patience. xoxoxo**

 **And, yes, the title is from Ed Sheeran's Lego House. I've no clue why other than it just seemed perfect.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Pick up the Pieces**

She was late and the door to Ron's old bedroom was open. Not just unlocked- but left ajar.

Hermione berated herself silently. Taking a quick look at the clock, she strode quickly to the dresser and pulled out a pair of faded-blue joggers along with an old, white top that had seen better days. She came to a momentary halt remembering the bubbly young witch to whom the articles had once belonged. The familiar pang of loss hit her again; of late, life had become a struggle of sorts. Sniffing her tears away, she continued to get dressed.

"I hope you can see we are taking care of Teddy, Tonks," she muttered after she was done, and wiped the traces of moisture from her eyes with the back of her hand. It felt like the pain of losing loved ones was etched into their very being. Regular and otherwise mundane things brought back memories of better days. Some of these people had become her family to her until they were snatched away by the cruel hands of death way before time.

With the grief intensifying she longed for Ron and the strength his presence alone could provide her. Pausing for a moment to gather her wits and forcing away the urge to Apparate back to him, she rushed out of his old bedroom and hastened down the rickety steps towards the kitchen.

She was late. Molly was already at the stove getting the breakfast ready.

The sight was so familiar that she felt as if she had grown up in this house, with these people all along. She glanced silently at Ginny, who was busy finishing the last spoons of her porridge. Arthur was practically hidden behind the newspaper; a half-eaten toast dangling from his fingers. The presence of these people warmed her heart, and for one faltering heartbeat, she questioned her decision. The Burrow had given her a home when she had none- the Weasley Seniors had filled in for her parents seamlessly just like they had done for Harry. She grabbed the railing and skipped over the broken step in a practised motion and barely noticed when the last step creaked as usual.

As she pulled her chair, Arthur looked up from his paper and gave her a warm, fatherly smile. When Ginny caught her eyes, she quirked an eyebrow gestured wordlessly towards Molly and grinned.

 _How could she not feel at home in this place?_

She felt every bit like the older daughter who had been caught sneaking out after curfew and was now expecting a telling off from their mother. The seed of guilt of being discovered was so deeply rooted in love that it amazed her, making her fall in love a little more with Ron's family.

 _No_ , she corrected herself, _their_ family.

"I should be off," said Arthur. The sound of his voice and scraping of the chair caused the elderly witch to turn around and finally catch Hermione's guilty eyes. Hermione stood on the spot but Molly's face was impassive as she strode towards her husband. She pecked him on the cheek and asked him to take care of himself. Once Arthur had left, the older witch turned around and glanced at Hermione, who felt an intense urge to blurt out an apology. Needless to say, she was more than shocked when Molly shook her head, smiling to herself and patted Hermione's cheek.

She pulled a plate for herself, still a little confused.

"That was close," chuckled Ginny. "Do you want me to ask why you're late today?" she whispered with a smirk.

"No! Absolutely not." Hermione drank deeply from her cup to hide her embarrassment. It was still not very clear what Molly had up her sleeve. _Perhaps, she had left the door open by mistake? Or was it Ginny?_

"You are clearing the chicken coop after you finish cleaning your room," instructed Molly to Ginny as she joined them at the table with a plate of fried eggs. She spooned generous amounts onto Hermione's plate. Still unsure where she stood with the elderly witch, Hermione could barely manage to look her in the eye.

"Later?" Ginny pleaded next to her.

"No." declared her mother firmly. "I want your room clean before you leave for Diagon Alley for your books."

"But Mum-"

"No 'buts'. If you're done, off you go right now."

Ginny huffed her way out, muttering loudly how it was unfair that she never got to enjoy the good scenes. Hermione bit back a nervous chuckle and concentrated on her plate, but that was until Molly placed her cup of tea down and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. The apology was waiting on her lips anyway.

"For what, dear?" asked the elderly witch.

"You know, I-" she began but only managed to end up staring at her plate.

"Did you really think, I wasn't aware that you were leaving the house every night?"

Hermione looked up so quickly that she feared she might have sprained her neck. "You knew?" she asked mortified.

"When you've brought up seven kids, you tend to 'know' a lot of things."

"Are you mad at me?" she inquired in a very small voice. She didn't want Molly to be ashamed of her and was glad when the Weasley matriarch smiled kindly. Her eyes crinkled and Hermione noticed that there was sadness in them, and not anger.

"What you children often seem to forget is that we too were young once," Molly sighed. She placed her cup down and looked unseeing at the table and Hermione followed her gaze.

She remembered a time when the place would resound with laughter and hope, the better times when the Weasley family and the Order members gathered around it. Back then, the place would resonated with life and a will to fight. And now, with only two of them, the silence of the house felt overbearing.

"Arthur and I have seen two wars, Hermione," Molly said in a voice so pained that tears pooled in Hermione's eyes. She wiped them off with the back of her hand as inconspicuously as she could manage.

"We have lived during and after both of them." Molly continued. "I know, the days after the end are the toughest- to know you survived when so many didn't..." she paused and let out a sigh before meeting Hermione's eyes again. "But despite all that we went through, neither of us were as young as you kids are now. We weren't so deep in the heart of the battle at your age."

Warm, plum hands found hers, and Hermione found it hard to hold back her tears.

"I know you need Ron just as much as he needs you."

It wasn't a split-second decision, not even a conscious one that made Hermione leave her chair, dash around the table and collapse on the floor in front of Molly. She buried her face in the lap of the woman who was a mother in ways even her own lacked. Molly smelled of spices and something else that made her feel secure and at home. Only Ron was a stronger comfort.

As experienced hands began soothing her back and tucking her messed curls away from her tearstained face, Hermione wrapped her fingers around Molly's wrist, holding onto that maternal comfort she so craved. She questioned herself once again if she really wanted to leave the Burrow.

…..

Ron and Harry dragged their soaking wet forms into the Grimmauld Place kitchen much later that night to find a warm fire crackling merrily in the hearth. A curly haired witch sat at the dining table, totally engrossed in a large volume that lay in front of her.

"Masters have soiled the carpet," admonished the old elf, quickly bringing two large towels which he handed over to the boys as he proceeded to clean the mess their mud-soaked boots had brought into the house.

Hermione looked up, beaming, and Ron noticed she was wearing one of his old jumpers. The sight filled his heart, draining away all his weariness.

"You're early!" he grinned as he dried his hair and stripped off the jacket to dump it over the back of a chair.

She smiled in a way that caused her cheeks to colour sharply, and for a moment, he stood stunned, realising how utterly beautiful she looked with the cheeks blushing and the eyes gleaming. _Blimey, how long had it been since he had seen her so blissfully happy? Perhaps forever._

"And you're soaked," she joked, looking between the boys and the pile of clothes both were dumping on the chairs.

Kreacher let out a frustrated sigh and proceed to vanish them. He clicked his fingers to dry the clothing still on their body, possibly to avoid more mess.

"Thanks, Kreacher. You are a lifesaver, " sighed Harry. Collapsing on the empty chair, he took off his glasses and began wiping them on his now clean tee.

Ron, however, took a few long strides to reach Hermione and bent to kiss her softly on her lips. They closed their eyes in unison and he felt her release a small moan. Her warm palm pressed on his unshaven cheek and he grabbed her wrist, soaking in her closeness. It was insane how her touch soothed him in ways nothing else could.

Once he had pulled away (much too soon of course), he noticed that her pyjama clad legs were tucked under her. She looked warm, cosy and utterly at home. He reckoned this was one sight he'd love to come back home to, every single day of his life.

"You look happy," he whispered as he took the chair next to her and wrapped an arm around her, nuzzling her ear softly with his lips. She beamed and pulled her chair closer to rest her head on his shoulder. She might have been on the verge of saying something but then she pressed her lips together as if trying to stop them from spilling out their secret. A smile lingered in her eyes.

Harry cleared his throat loudly, sure to grab their attention, and disrupted the blissful moment. Hermione looked away quickly, her cheeks flushing. Ron rolled his eyes and kicked a booted foot under the table. _Prat!_

Harry looked at the two of them and rolled his eyes. Hermione, who had been busy marking and keeping her book aside, had missed the silent conversation between the boys.

"So, how was your day?" she quipped eagerly, looking between them.

"Looks like we've to read up a lot," grumbled Harry, and she laughed.

"And assignments, loads of bloody assignments," he intoned. _And he'd thought being War Heroes would have sufficed._

She laughed at their tone and they both stared at her and shook their heads.

"Not funny," he admonished playfully.

"It is, for me," she chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. Ron would have responded but Harry let out a dramatic moan.

"Not at the table, you two!"

"Later," he whispered into her hair and she blushed deeply.

"How did you get so wet if it was all theory?" she asked once Kreacher had brought them three steaming bowls of French onion soup. The boys literally attacked the bowls while Kreacher went back to the kitchen. Ron silently hoped there was enough food in the pantry to sate their monstrous appetite.

"Twenty laps around the pitch!" he exclaimed once he was done with the soup. "These trainers are bloody crazy, I tell ya'. Harry finished mouldy Voldy without a single lap. What d'ya say, mate?"

"Absolutely," Harry agreed. " _And_ \- we had some insane amount of workouts post that."

Hermione, he could see, was trying her best to stifle her laughter. "Impressive! I'm so proud of you guys!" she concluded.

He grinned. " And how was your day?" he inquired of her, and suddenly she had that gleam in her eyes again.

"Good," she replied biting her lower lip for the briefest amount of time.

"Someone's cheerful," Harry observed. He licked his spoon clean and dropped it back on the plate with a satisfied sigh. "Care to share the news?"

Hermione looked at the two of them, placed her knife and fork daintily onto her plate before biting her lips again. Ron decided he would end up kissing her on the spot if she continued to look at him that way, Harry could go sod himself.

"Harry, erm… would you mind if-if I shift here with the two of you?"

Ron literally dropped his spoon with a clutter and gaped at her, while Harry, looked at him and smirked.

"You mean to say, shift with Ron, am I right?"

Ron, still speechless, turned towards her.

"I could take up a different room if it makes you uncomfortable."

"WHAT?!" he gasped and turned to his best mate.

Harry shook his head vigorously. "Are you kidding, Hermione?!" he laughed, "Ron will kick my arse!"

"He's right, you know," Ron added with a huge grin.

"Bit pointless actually since you both will end up in his bed anyway."

Hermione blushed and picked up her spoon. Ron tried hard to stay in the present and not end up doing something that could possibly scar Harry for life. Hermione had to know that her flustered-self did insane things to him.

"You spoke to Mum?" he asked, happy to note that his best mate sobered at her mention.

"She knew all along that I was- you know- spending the nights here."

Both the boys gasped in unison.

"How are you still alive, Ron?" Harry pondered aloud. Ron was asking the same question to himself.

"And-?"

"And she said, after everything we've been through, it makes more sense this way."

The cheer from moments ago dimmed as he saw the sadness fill her eyes. He reckoned he'd have to thank his Mum, if he could muster the courage to talk to her of course. He needed Hermione, every minute- every second of his life. He wouldn't know how to live without her. No one but she knew about his nightmares. And even when they were among others and he felt the shudder of the Cruciatus running through his veins, she would be there, holding his hand, pulling him into her. How she figured, he didn't know, but he guessed they had somehow fine-tuned themselves to each other's emotions.

"Any chance she'll allow Ginny to come down too?" He asked to lighten the mood for Harry's sake. They never spoke of it, but knew instinctively that Harry still blamed himself for Ron's torture.

"Not anytime soon, Harry."

He laughed along with Hermione as Harry dug into another treacle tart grumpily.

"You'd think something good would come out of being a war hero," he grumbled.

"Don't worry, Harry," said Hermione, taking pity on him, "she said she'll sneak out later tonight."

Harry cheered up and served himself another tart, most likely in celebration this time.

"Did you get your stuff?" he asked her quietly.

"Not yet, I thought I'll ask Harry first," she smiled. "Not that I expected him to deny but still, you know…"

"Yeah," he agreed. "But you aren't leaving in a rush tomorrow, are you?"

"No," she bit her lips again, "but you have your training."

"Which means we should hit the bed early."

"Of course…" she chuckled.

Ron could never get enough of her smiles. He felt utterly blissful. It had been a good day, and no matter how much he complained about the training, he loved it. And now Hermione was going to move in with him.

Deciding that Harry would prefer to be left alone anyway as Ginny would be arriving soon, he pushed his chair back and rose.

"You're done?" she asked, pushing away her empty plate and wiping her mouth on the napkin.

"Yeah, shall we leave?" he asked her. She nodded in affirmative and stood up as well and Ron made a split second decision.

"Harry, just pretend you didn't see this."

Ignoring the confused look on the two faces he loved best, he scooped up the girl in his arms.

"Eww, you two!" mocked Harry, while Hermione let out a tiny shriek and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Ron! What-"

He just gave her a lopsided grin. and placed a quick peck on her lips. With his eyes locked with hers, he walked out of the dining room. He had wasted a lot of time stopping himself from loving her. He wasn't ready to lose another minute.


	3. A Dream Come True

_a/n: I can't believe I'm updating this after almost two years! Urgh, I don't even know what to say other than thank all you wonderful readers for all the love and your patience! It is hard to go back to a fic after so long. And I am honestly worried, I might not be able to do justice to the love ISoH has received, that the sequel will somehow fall short._

 _Anyway, with this small chapter, I'm trying to get back in tune with the Ron/Hermione dynamics of ISoH. Do let me know what you think of it._

 _xoxoxo_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: A Dream Come True**

The blush on her cheeks was visible despite the low lighting of the corridor. Unable to look anywhere but at the girl in his arms, nothing but familiarity guiding his steps, he carried her out of the kitchen towards the corridor and then towards the staircase. He had always dreamt of a time when Hermione would love him back, a time when he'd be able to see their future in her eyes. It struck him suddenly, that the day he had been waiting for what seemed like a lifetime, had finally arrived- Hermione was with him. Overwhelmed, he stopped abruptly on the steps.

"You should really put me down, Ron," she whispered quietly, placing her left palm over his chest, eyes clouded with love and happiness.

He adjusted his hold on her before proceeding to climb up again, careful not to trip. "Why on earth, should I do that?" he asked, smiling.

"Because you've had a long day and your bedroom is on the second floor perhaps?" she replied, trying her best to hide the blush.

" _Our_ bedroom," he corrected her, and her eyes dipped as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. He loved that she had gotten some colour back. Sighing quietly to himself, he paused for a moment to press his lips to her forehead, soaking in the fragrance of her shampoo, her skin still warm from the time she spent near the fire down in the kitchen.

His footsteps echoed in the silence of the house, and he was inexplicably reminded of the time when they had walked down these very steps the first time, hand in hand, her eyes bounded. He pulled her closer to himself at the memory and she placed her head on his shoulder.

"You really should put me down. I don't want you to hurt your back," she added after pressing her lips to his chest.

He paused, leaning against the wall; they were almost at the second-floor landing, barely a few steps from his room. Slowly he lowered her on her feet, her arms still around his neck. Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her snugly to himself, and tucked the errant curl behind her ear, allowing his finger to linger on her cheek before tracing it delicately on her nape.

"Remember the time we sat here chatting?" he asked, his voice deeper. He could never forget how much he craved her back then, how agonising it was to stay away- love and hate her in equal measure.

"Yes," she whispered back, stifling a moan as his finger pried the neckline of her, _heck no-_ _his_ jumper to expose more of her skin before pressing his lips to it. The oversized article was easy to pull away further and it came down to her upper arm, exposing the strap of her bra.

"Rron… we might be seen," she managed, fisting his shirt at his chest, automatically angling her face away to make it easier for him as he traced his lips across her nape to her shoulder, sucking and biting softly as he wished.

"Harry knows better than to come upstairs now," he chuckled, pulling the jumper lower, moving his face to press kisses at the hollow of her throat, the slight rumble of a moan vibrating through her skin and sending sparks down his spine. "The twins had tricked you to drink one of their concoctions, remember?" he added, breathing erratically as he recalled the way her eyes had darkened, a glazed look had come over her features. He distinctly remembered how much he had panicked before the effect of the Daydream Charm had died down and Hermione had almost dashed away from the kitchen. The feeling of guilt and jealousy were still vivid in his memories- all he had wanted to know was who she might have dreamt about...

"It- it was you…"

He snapped out of his thoughts at her voice, left arm pulling her closer still, while his right cupped her face to look into her eyes. "Really?" he asked, fearful that he had heard wrong, that it was just his deepest desires that he had heard aloud.

Her eyes roamed over his face, and she bit her lip in the familiar way she always did when she was trying to hide a smile. Her arms snaked around his neck as she placed her sock covered feet on his, tiptoeing still to accommodate his height and nodded a smidge, "I dreamt about you and-" she looked away, "and we were right here- on these very steps..." she added in a whisper.

 _Fuck…_

He pressed his lips to hers in urgently, feeling the calm her closeness always provided, and yet, the brewing of a storm of need in his veins. "Tell me," he growled in her ear, biting her earlobe as her nails raked his back over his shirt, breathing fast to make up for his thudding heart, realising instinctively that her need was mounting too.

….

Her jumper was now bunched just above her breasts, his arousal digging into her core through her pyjama bottoms as she sat facing him on his lap, both of them still sitting on the staircase, a couple of steps below the second-floor landing. The house was eerily silent, almost reminiscent of her daydream; the quiet only broken by their ragged breathing and occasional moans.

She was barely holding on from flopping over him, her body a bundle of nerves as his long fingers were placed on her left breast, his thumb playfully running over the sensitized nipple over the soft cotton of her bra. She felt her fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders as she arched herself, shuddering and pressing her lips shut in an effort to hold back the cries of pleasure that would surely breakthrough Ron's muffling charms. She felt his other hand find their way under her jumper to touch the bare skin of her back, the tip of his little finger just under the elastic of her pyjama bottoms.

She wanted to see him, see the way his eyes professed his love for her but her eyes kept fluttering shut in pleasure, especially when he deftly unhooked her bra-hooks and pulled them away by pinching the cloth at the centre of her breast. Her arms still within the straps, the stupid article wouldn't come off but that didn't deter Ron in the least as he bent to kiss the cups before placing his lips directly on her right nipple. She moaned aloud, and as if on cue, he took it in his mouth, sucking torturously slow. Her fingers threaded through his hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer as she heard the soft sounds of his mouth on her skin, a rumble in his throat, making her literally cry with need. His right hand was prodding deeper into her knickers from the back, running his clipped nails over her arse, while the thumb of his left mimicked the action of his lips, caressing her free breast. She came with a loud cry when he began to rock them together, his hips thrusting against her clothed core.

…..

Later that night, snuggled deep into his arms and buried in the warmth of their shared body heat, she managed to bring up the topic haunting her.

"Ron, are you awake?" she asked very softly, pondering whether it was the right time to bring the topic up. The candles in their brackets cast a faint light on the room which was now home to another trunk and a few bags, most of which held books.

"Yeah," he replied sleepily before kissing her on top of her head, pulling her deeper into his chest. Their naked bodies fit in seamlessly like always, and both muttered a small moan in unison as his groin pressed against her core, hardening.

"Again?" she asked bemused, although not really surprised, as he pulled himself away a smidge to see her better.

"You know me," he grinned sheepishly.

"Don't forget you have training again tomorrow, Mr Ron Weasley!" she teased, and he laughed, the rumble of his muscles soaking into her and giving her the courage she needed.

"Ron, I am planning to go back and assist in the restoration of Hogwarts," she said, watching closely for his reaction, hating herself a little as his smile faded. He watched her for a while, running his palm over her bare arms.

"They are starting the restoration already?" he asked.

"In a few days, yes," she replied, snuggling closer and pressing her face deeper in the crook of his shoulder.

"Will you be okay? Going back, I mean?" he asked, and she gripped him harder around the waist.

"We have to, don't we. Professor McGonagall wrote to your mum. They need a lot of volunteers."

"Harry and I were talking about it too. Let's see if we can make it on Sundays."

"So you won't mind if I help?" she asked again, and Ron arched his head back to look at her.

"Why would I mind? Moreover, you don't need to ask me, Hermione! Just- just be safe, a'right?"

She nodded and snuggled closer, coaxing herself to say the rest.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering- if-if y'know, I claim my inheritance…" she managed, dreading his reaction. For a while, there was only the gentle rise and fall of his chest, but Hermione found herself holding her breath. "I won't if-"

"It's yours to decide anyway, love," he replied and this time, she pulled away to look at him in the eye, to see for herself if there was even the slightest trace of … she didn't know what exactly she was looking for. Doubt perhaps? But the person looking back at her was just her Ron.

"You won't mind?" she asked carefully.

He sighed, pulling his hand away from her waist to rub across his stubbled jaws. "What I actually mind is you asking me about stuff that you should be free to decide yourself."

"What you think matters to me," she replied earnestly.

He met her eyes, and for a while, she wondered why there was so much regret in his eyes. He caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "You are not a prisoner anymore. This life, the freedom we fought for belongs to all of us. You are free to decide how you want to spend your life and no one, has to right to interfere, not even me."

She ignored the moisture that had pooled in her eyes, but Ron brought his hand to her face and wiped them off for her.

"There are too many kids who have no family to fund their Hogwarts education anymore," she said after a while, once she had managed to reign in her emotions. "I was thinking of setting up a Fund Trust for them, you know to take care of all their educational expenses."

"That sounds good," he agreed, and she placed a quick kiss on his shoulder before turning on her back, head resting on his arm. "And Hogwarts needs money for the restoration too, not everything can be sorted by magic. And I was thinking of doing something for rehabilitating the muggle-borns who lost it all."

"You should ask Bill, he'll help you out," he suggested and wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. She could sense him getting drowsy. A part of her was coaxing her to say the rest, while another, the insecure bit, was telling her to stop. Planning about using the funds was all good and easy- but that would only happen after she submitted her claim- after her inheritance rights were probed and proved. She shuddered a little at the thought. _Was she ready to bear the scrutiny of the society that would accompany her claim to her inheritance?_ No matter what she did, it would always be a Death Eater's money, and her motive would probably be considered a way of buying grace from the public.

"Ron?" she called haltingly. She knew the poor guy needed sleep, but then again, her anxiety would not let her rest, quite possibly trigger another panic attack later in the night unless she dealt with it.

"Not sleepy yet?" he replied, eyes still closed.

"Bill reckons, Kingsley will have to stand witness to my case if I claim the Granger vaults- and...and you will have to too…"

He let out a sigh, rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn before he spoke. "I'm just worried it will be hard for you to relieve those days, Hermione. Will _you_ be okay?"

"This is the only way I will be able to redeem my parents, Ron," she managed, sniffing away her tears.

With a gentle tug, Ron turned her towards him before pulling her into himself. "We'll do it for them, I promise."


End file.
